The Greaser Whisperer
by DALLYsaysSHUTtheHELLup
Summary: Ponyboy dies that fateful night in the park. Now he has to helplessly sit back and watch as his brothers and the gang spiral out of control.


**This is the first story I ever published on here but rewritten. The next chapter will be longer :)**

**Reviews are very much appreciated **

* * *

><p>I struggle against the hand that's on the back of my neck uselessly. It's to strong and I have to hold my breath when my head is forced under the water. I need air. I don't know how much longer I can hold my breath. My lungs ache and the need to breathe is growing stronger. Involuntarily I suck in a breath and water fills my mouth. I try to cough it out but only more water enters and I have to swallow it. I don't fight the darkness anymore; I don't have the strength. I slowly relax into the red haze and let the blackness consume me.<p>

I must have fallen asleep somewhere very quiet because when I wake up all I hear is a faint buzzing in my ear. I'm still caught somewhere between a dream and reality. Memories fill my mind but I can't quite grasp what really happened and what I might have made up.  
>I'm not ready to wake up, not ready to face the truth. I have no idea what time it was let alone the day. How long had it been since me and Johnny met Dally under the streetlight?<p>

Could it have only been a day since then? Could it have been days? And where was I? When I opened my eyes will I find myself back in my warm safe bed or somewhere much worse?

I tentatively open my eyes, while pushing myself up, knowing I can't put this off any longer. I look around slowly, finding that I'm still in the park.

Running into Johnny, the Soc's, it all must have been a dream. There was no evidence that any of that stuff happened. My clothes were completely dry and I felt fine. Only despite feeling fine I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

Something was very wrong….

I dread going home. I know the fight with Darry was something that actually did happen. If Darry was that mad last night I couldn't imagine how mad he'd be today. I still can't believe he hit me. I bet he worried all night when I didn't come home. I hope he worried all night. But he must have not worried too much if he didn't even bother come looking for me.

I walk home slowly in no real hurry to get there. As much as I dreaded facing Darry I dreaded facing Sodapop even more. I know that Soda would be worried and I hated worrying him.

The house is empty and I'm a little surprised by that. I check the clock. It was a little after seven and Sodapop had the day off so where was he? I felt pretty crummy when I realized he was probably out looking for me.

I feel even crummier when I hear Darry's truck in the driveway. Did he miss work to look for me? I braced myself for his rage when he saw me. When he walked through the door there was no anger evident on his face. He almost looked defeated. The last time I saw that much pain in his eyes was when mom and dad died.

That pain couldn't have been from last night. The pain was so fresh and so unmistakable that I'm scared it could only be caused by one thing.

Oh god, no, please say nothing happened to Soda. Anyone but Sodapop, I silently begged.

Relief rushes through me when Sodapop walks through that door. Everything wasn't okay though. That was plain to see. Soda had obviously been crying and the pain in his eyes was almost unbearable. Did something happen to one of the gang?

"Sodapop," I said, walking further into the living room. "What's going on?" He didn't seem to hear me. Neither Soda or Darry had even acknowledged me yet.

"Soda," I spoke louder, reaching out to shake his shoulder but my hand seemed to go right through him.

I stared down at my hand than at Sodapop. He seemed to be looking right through me. I was growing a little desperate and turned towards Darry. "What's happening?" I demanded but there was no response from him either. It's like I wasn't there.

I reach for Soda again and grasp nothing but air. It slowly dawned on me that there's not anything wrong with the gang, but with me.

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? <strong>


End file.
